Fame of any sort was folly and she knew better. There was no railway beyond Frutigen in those days; they sent their baggage by post to Kandersteg, and walked along the mule path to the left of the stream to that queer hollow among the precipices, Blau See, where the petrifying branches of trees lie in the blue deeps of an icy lake, and pine-trees clamber among gigantic boulders. Others are smart but fall prey to emotional damage, the female lunar instinct of cunning that goes awry. She hoped that he would at long last remember his young male pride.
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